By: Anna Spencer Hang Borin is a Khmer writer whom I have had the great pleasure of meeting recently. He was born in a refugee camp in Thailand in 1987. His mother had made the perilous journey over…
By: Pamela Riley I remember the color of your eyes that day we drove to Calvary and how you said my smile could murder the moon. Everything I did that summer was for you – the shells rattling in old cans…
By: Adreyo Sen Her madness was an open sore. A forgotten wound. It added years to a face closing in upon itself, like a government deposition. Her madness fled from her lined mouth and attacked us passers by, a snake…
By: Lisa Anne Maryniw The air is crisp Breath rising in the Winter midst Darkness covers the vacant Streets of Mind and Soul. The Body is frail Dying from absence of food and shelter The Soul is crying from the…
One of the Linkedin connections recently raised a query: What kind of a poet are you? She gave three categories of poets to make it easy for the group members to choose from. Her statement was divided the entire poetry world…